Wonderful write, but that last stanza was amazing. Both parties have bled enough (as lovers so often do). Yet, through all of the trials and tribulations, they can always count on one another to break a fall. Gorgeous, reassuring, touching, and tender.

Beautiful poem and thought, Shari! I especially loved the line ‘ the hackles of our temper’ – don’t ask me why but it just speaks to me. 😊
I actually like succulents a lot and have one I call my little Hobbit – again, don’t ask me why. 😉

You are so kind to say this, Jenna. I’ve never considered myself a poet though I’ve loved reading poetry and usually read 2 – 3 every evening. Mary Oliver this week, of course. One day I may publish some of my favorite poems.

Decades ago, a friend told me that no relationship was ever 50-50, that one person always gave more according to the needs of the other, that it was always fluid. It shocked me at first (I was rather young) but I came to agree with her.

Sharon, a beautiful poem of love. How that which pulls us apart, causing pain to oneself and each other, is yet the very element that reunites, heals us. The bittersweet of life and love touchingly portrayed.

Whoa! I need to stop binge-reading your “just a thoughts”. Each one lately has been a bit overwhelming (as all powerful prose and poetry does). In a few stanzas you’ve captured the autobiography of many, too many, lives and relationships . . .
Don’t know why exactly (may need to ponder awhile on this one) but
“I left it in its pearly pot to sulk alone”
hit it’s mark with me.
j.
P.S. I just realized why . . .story to follow

Agree with the others. This was a wonderful poem about the beauty in love and coming together. There is much more beauty and love to be shared when we are together, even through the hard times as we lift each other up. Very well written.

Sharon Lynne Bonin-Pratt began her writing career the way so many others have done: by first doing everything else. Winning entries in grade school art, story, and essay contests convinced her to become a writer, but the real world intruded in adulthood and demanded she pay bills, raise kids, be a contributing member of the community. Along that rutted path she worked in the commercial art field designing patterns for surfer shorts, bikinis, and Hawaiian style shirts, taught after-school art through a city recreation program, and structured an art curriculum for three private schools. Ten years ago the writing muse, struggling to breathe in letters to friends and art articles, found its way to the surface. In a two-week period Shari wrote 60 pages of her first historical novel, and didn’t stop for three years. By then a second book demanded paper – OK, computer space – and now the third is in final revision stage. Of course, final revision is two words with a long shadow and a little footprint. Some folk claim they will write when the floors get vacuumed, the family accounting completed, the new garden planted. Shari is proof that all those things can be successfully ignored but not the urge to write. Her fiction explores human relationships, revenge, rage, forgiveness, redemption, and all the labyrinthine quandaries that mess up otherwise perfect lives. She resides in Southern California with her husband who’s learned to vacuum but not to cook. And the garden needs help.